


We End and Begin Again

by wakeupstiles



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Grief, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Slow Burn, Tragedy, past raven/gina, past roan/echo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6464212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakeupstiles/pseuds/wakeupstiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they meet, they’re in the trauma waiting room at Arkadia Memorial, both devastated and heartbroken. Their story ends and begins within those hospital walls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We End and Begin Again

**Author's Note:**

> been a minute since i wrote some ice mechanic. hope you enjoy.

The first time they met, it was storming outside and the walls of the hospital were cold and lonely. She was sitting in the waiting room chair, bouncing her knee up and down and propping up her left leg that had a brace on it. She had scratches all over her face and arms. Blood covered her shirt, hair stuck up in every direction. She had two black eyes and a busted lip. He was pacing around the room, a slight limp to his step. His face was equally as bloody, his clothes just as dirty. He wringed his hands together, anticipation and fear eating away at him.

“Raven.” She offered her name in the hopes to calm him down. She didn’t know how she was so calm—maybe she was numb.

His eyes flicked to her, then back down at the floor. “Roan.”

“Who?” She motioned with her eyes to the double doors that led back to where the surgeons were working.

He followed her eyes, swallowed loudly, then looked back at the floor. “Fiancé. You?”

“Girlfriend.” She ran her hands through her hair, trying to keep her thoughts away from the dark place they’d been going ever since getting to the hospital. “What happened?” She asked, her voice thick with tears.

The man continued to pace, not looking at her as he spoke, “Bus hit our car. You?”

“Bus hit a car.” She mumbled, then looked up and their eyes met, wide and tearful. “Your car, I assume.”

He gave a small, slow nod. “Was the driver drunk?” He questioned, his tone growing dark.

The woman slowly shook her head, careful to not agitate her neck anymore than it already was. “He…he had a heart attack. We tried to stop the bus but the road was slippery.” Her mind roamed back to the crash. It all happened so fast, like a flash of lightning: the driver swerving and falling out of his seat, Raven jumping up and getting in the seat, trying to stop the bus, it had just begun to rain so the road was very slippery, slamming into a car, swerving some more and then tipping over, Gina getting thrown through the window, Raven getting pinned under hot metal.

So much blood.

So much screaming.

Gina getting thrown from the window.

_Gina._

_Gina._

_Gina._

Raven blinked away the pain, gulped and started, “I’m s—“

But then a surgeon came out of the double doors leading to the OR and approached Roan. They moved to the side. The doctor said a few words and then Roan let out an angry wail, turned and kicked at the vending machine, threw a punch at the wall, then slid down the wall and held his head in his trembling hands.

She was about to get up and go to him, to try to comfort him the best she could, but then another surgeon came out and headed towards her. Raven got up, using her crutches to steady herself, and held her breath as the doctor stopped in front of her.

The woman pulled down the mask from her mouth and her expression said it all. “No…” Raven mumbled, blood running cold.

“We did everything we could, but she had an aneurism during surgery and there was nothing we could do. We have her on a ventilator right now, but she’s not going to wake up.” The doctor explained, her lips in a thin line. Raven wondered how many times she’s had to tell people this.

Raven took a deep breath, closed her eyes and whispered, “So she’ll never breathe on her own?”

The woman shook her head. “There is no brain function.”

With a little nod Raven followed the doctor through the double doors, passing by Roan as she went and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder before proceeding to Gina’s room so that she could say goodbye.

 

* * *

 

The second time they met, it was sunny, hot, humid, and people were laughing. He was sitting at a round table with another man and they weren’t talking, but the silence between them didn’t seem uncomfortable. She came over to them, notepad ready to take their order. She hadn’t realized it was Roan until he looked up at her, bright blue eyes growing a little wider when he recognized her.

“Hi,” She greeted.

A little smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he gave a little nod. “Hey,” The man in front of him just watched silently

“How are you doing?”

His eyes clouded over and his shoulders slouched a little. “I’ve…been better.”

She gave a nod of understanding, touched his shoulder even though she shouldn’t have; she didn’t know him, who was she to try to comfort him? “I’m sorry.” She offered.

He gave a thin smile. “And you?”

Raven bit her lip, looked away from him. “Yeah, I’ve been better, too.” Then she quickly changed the subject before she had the chance to start crying. She scribbled down their orders, scurried to the back where she put them in, then scrubbed her misty, burning eyes with a paper towel.

It’d been two weeks since Gina’s death; Raven had just now managed to pull herself out of their apartment and back to work, back to functioning society. Her boss told her to take all the time she needed, that she would still have a job whenever she decided she was ready. She wasn’t ready, far from it, but she couldn’t stay in that goddamn apartment, surrounded by the numerous pictures of them, _her_ bright smile and golden hair. She couldn’t lie on that couch, drink the day away, and gorge on take out. She had to leave; she had to _do something,_ so she decided going back to work would be the best option.

She’d been wrong, of course, but it was too late now; the place was crazy busy and she wouldn’t let Harper, Monroe, and the other waitresses do it alone.

The two men stayed for twenty more minutes after they’d finished eating. They were walking out the door when Raven came back to get their dirty dishes and the bill. She froze, though, when she saw two one hundred dollar bills sitting under Roan’s plate. Her heart skipped a beat, then a rush of heat went through her and she picked up the money, ran out the door after him.

“What the hell is this?” She called. Roan and his friend turned around, eyebrows raised. She waved her hand in the air that had the money in it, then held it out to him, shaking her wrist for emphasis. “What the _hell_ is this?” She repeated in frustration.

Roan shrugged. “It’s a tip.” He stated plainly.

She narrowed her dark eyes at the coy man. “No, this is charity. I don’t need your charity.”

He arched a brow. “It’s not charity. It’s an ‘I’m sorry’.” Then he turned and walked away with his friend, leaving her standing there, arms at her sides, eyes wide, mouth agape, dumbfounded by what had just happened.

Finally, after several minutes and numerous weird stares from passing people, she crossed her arms, huffed, and stomped back into the restaurant. “What was that?” Harper asked as she walked up to her friend, eyes laced with worry.

Raven shrugged, shoved the money in her apron. “He left me a two hundred dollar tip.” She muttered.

Harper’s eyes bulged. “On what tab?”

“Forty.”

“Jesus Christ, he must have really liked the service.”

The brunette rolled her eyes, shrugged again. “It was the guy I met in the waiting room at the hospital. He said…” She trailed off, thinking of his words and his expression. He genuinely looked sorry. And she’d snapped at him for it.

“What?” Harper pressed.

“Huh?”

“You were going to say something.” The blonde prompted.

“Oh,” Raven rubbed her temples. “Yeah, I don’t remember.”

Harper gave her a sidelong look, placed a gentle hand on her forearm. “Do you want to go home? You can, if you want. Monroe, Monty, Miller, and I can handle this.”

She gave her friend a half smile, shook her head. “Nah, it’s okay. Working is a good distraction.” Then they got back to work as the early dinner rush settled in.

  

* * *

 

The third time they met, they were sitting in a circle with seven other people, sharing their feelings like they were in kindergarten. She was sitting between him and another woman, a pale blonde wearing scrubs because she was still on call. They’d gone around sharing their stories, now it was her turn; her name was Clarke, she was a cardio surgeon at Arkadia Memorial, she lost her girlfriend, Lexa, in a house fire seven months ago and while it still hurt like hell, she was getting closure and becoming close with another woman, a nurse at the hospital named Niylah, and she felt a little guilty for it.

Raven kept her comments to herself, but if she’d have opened her mouth she would have told the doctor that her late girlfriend would want her to be happy, that she would want her to find peace, that she would want her to move on. Not to forget, but to move on.

She didn’t say any of that, though, because why say it to someone when she didn’t believe it herself?

Clarke ended her story and it was time for Raven to begin hers. She kept her head down and her voice low, telling them all the story of Gina Martin, the bartender who owned the Dropship. The woman who didn’t give Raven the time of day at first, but after six tries she gave in with a smile and agreed to go out with Raven. The woman who loved so deeply and cared with every fiber of her being. The woman who loved peanut butter on her pancakes but hated chocolate chips in them. The woman who adored dogs and cats and refused to pick between them. The woman who woke up every morning with her hair crazy and her eyes groggy, but still looked like an angel. The woman Raven gave her everything to, the woman who deserved so much more, the woman who died way before her time.

The woman who took Raven with her when she left.

She was swallowing down sobs and a huge lump in her throat by the end of her story. No one said anything, but Clarke and Roan placed their hands on either of her shoulders and gave light squeezes. Raven swiped her arm across her eyes, grabbed her cane, and left the circle just as the hour was up. She limped over to the refreshment table, messaged her braced leg as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She tried to keep as much pressure off her leg as possible, but even that barely helped the ache; the crash hadn’t only taken her girlfriend, it’d taken the function of her left leg, leaving her with a brace in order to stay mobile.

It was annoying, not being able to walk without the damn thing attached to her, but she was getting used to it; the pain would never leave, but with the right medication it would be _manageable._

She doubted she’d ever be comfortable in life again.

“I’m sorry about Gina.” She looked up to see Roan beside her, grabbing a glazed doughnut from the platter and biting into it.

“I’m sorry about Echo.” Raven replied, gulping down the rest of her coffee, wishing she could gulp down her emotions, too; being a robot, not feeling anything, that would have been better than feeling everything.

“To lost love.” He held up his half eaten doughnut.

“To a fucked world.” She held up her empty cup.

They toasted to their heartbreak.

 

* * *

 

The fourth time they met, it was a late Saturday night and he was throwing back shots like they were water. The bar was bouncing with hard rock music and she tiredly maneuvered her way through the tangle of people dancing in the middle. As she approached the bar she saw him sitting there, ignoring the pretty woman trying to chat him up, asking the bartender to pour five more in his slurred deep voice.

She was going to ignore it. She was going to order her drink and be on her way, but she couldn’t. It’d been six months and he was still hurting. She knew because she was still hurting, too. That, and they still went to grief counseling, so they frequently talked about how they were continuously drowning in their sorrows.

“I think you’ve had enough.” She said over the music, placing her hand on top of his to stop him from picking up the shot. He snapped his neck to her, his scowl dropping when he recognized who it was.

“It would have been seven years.” He grumbled. Raven bit her lip, then looped an arm around his waist and pulled him from the chair. “Where are we going?” He slurred as she led them both towards the exit.

“I’m taking you home.” She reached into his pocket for his wallet to get his address off his license. He was lucid enough to show her where he’d parked, but after he slumped in the passenger seat he was out. Raven slid in the driver’s seat, powered up the car, and headed towards his pent house.

She managed to get him to the front door and on to the couch before she just gave up and let him stay there. He looked uncomfortable but he had at least a hundred pounds on her so there was no way she’d get him to move. She was going to leave, and she should have, but seeing him like that, all bent and broken, snoring quietly on the couch with his brow furrowed, she couldn’t walk away.

So, she plopped herself on the love seat by the TV and drifted off.

She hated herself for getting so invested. Hated herself for caring so goddamn much, but she couldn’t help it.

 

* * *

 

The fifth time they met, they collided into each other and scolding coffee splashed all down her white shorts and all over his grey suit. A string of cuss words spilled from her mouth as she jumped back from the person who’d smacked into her. Her voice became muted, though, when she saw that it was Roan.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, reaching into his suit pocket and pulling out some napkins.

She raised a brow, taking them and wiping up the coffee that trickled down her legs. “Do you always carry napkins in your pocket?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, gave a sheepish smile. “For occasions like this.”

“Oh, so you make it a habit of spilling coffee on people?” She teased with a wide grin, tossing the soaked napkins in the trashcan behind her.

“I’ll buy you another one.” He offered, opening the café door and motioning her inside. She was going to shake her head, but decided against it; who was she to deny free coffee? And plus, she hadn’t talked to him since that night three weeks ago when she brought him home drunk; she wanted to know how he was doing.

“Okay, thank you.” They walked into the small shop and approached the counter, where she told the woman her order. They took a few steps down to wait for the drink, both silent. She shifted her eyes up at him, staring with her peripheral vision. He looked better than he had that night at the bar; his shoulder length hair was trimmed and had fresh braids in it, his face was freshly shaved, just the hint of stubble on it. Yes, it looked better, but looks were deceiving, after all.

She waited until they were back outside before she asked, “So, how are you doing?”

He looked down at her, hesitated, then sighed deeply and mumbled, “No bullshit?”

She nodded. “No bullshit.”

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. “I’m…getting by. It’s almost been a year, you know.” She nodded, her heart stinging. Almost a year without Gina. Yes, she knew. Oh, she knew. “The ache…you know, the ache?” She nodded again. She knew all too well. “It’s…dulling but it’s still there. I doubt it’ll ever go away completely.”

“No, I don’t think it will.” She agreed, sipping on her latte.

“Do you think we’ll ever be happy again?” He questioned sincerely.

She squinted up at the sky, then rolled her neck and stared into his blue eyes, said carefully, “I think we will.”

“Why?”

“Because, they would be pissed off if we don’t.”

They smiled at each other, the heaviness in their chests lessening a little more.

 

* * *

 

The sixth time they met, he was standing outside her apartment at four in the afternoon, nervous hands clenching and unclenching at his sides because he couldn’t run them through his tied back hair. He was shifting from foot to foot, a little ball of anxiety ever growing in his stomach. He was about the ring the doorbell again, but she opened the door and stepped outside, smiling up at him as she shut and locked the door behind her.

“Hey,” She greeted brightly.

A slow smile spread over his face, his eyes crinkling with it. “Hey,” He said back, then took her hand and led her down the stairs of her apartment building.

It’d been two years since their first meeting, and while the void in their hearts would always be constant, they were okay. They were content. They were happy.


End file.
